


Better Life

by thismidnight



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thismidnight/pseuds/thismidnight
Summary: Michael and Sara spend the morning together on Michael's birthday. Set a few weeks before The Final Break.





	Better Life

_we’re headed for a better life, you and me_

_we’re gonna break the chains that bind and finally we’ll be free_

_we’re gonna be the ones that have it all, you and me_

 

“I still don’t see it,” Sara states, turning sideways and scowling at her reflection in the mirror, pulling her shirt taut against her midsection.

“I do,” Michael replies from where he sits perched on the end of their bed, doubled over, tying a knot in his shoelace.

Sara rolls her eyes and releases her grip on her shirt, letting it hang loose on her frame as she turns around to face Michael. “You’re seeing things then, Scofield.”

 Smiling wide, Michael stands and shakes his head. “I’m not. I know what I see.”

 “You know what you _want_ to see,” Sara teases, taking a step towards Michael. He closes the distance between them and reaches his down, placing his hand on the still barely discernable swell of Sara’s abdomen.

 “I can definitely feel it, then,” he says, his impossibly wide grin growing even wider, practically threatening to split his face in half, and Sara can’t help but smile watching him, his excitement and happiness for their growing family infectious.

 “I feel horrible making you go grocery shopping for your own party. And on your birthday, no less,” Sara states, patting the top of Michael’s hand and changing the subject. Michael pulls his hand away and shrugs.

 “I don’t mind,” he replies honestly. The last time they had gone together the barrage of smells inside the store had turned Sara’s stomach, sending her back to the car to wait while Michael finished the task on his own. Fearing a repeat incident, and not wanting to upset her or the baby, he had graciously volunteered to do the shopping for his birthday barbecue on his own. “I can think of worse ways to spend my birthday. And, besides, it’s not my party.”

 “Michael, it is your party.”

 “Okay, it isn’t just _my_ party,” Michael says, swiftly amending his statement.

 Sara rolls her eyes at Michael’s stubborn refusal to let even his own birthday be about him. “Fine, but it’s _mostly_ your party,” she finally concedes.

 “Is this all we need?” He asks, pulling a folded piece of paper from the front pocket of his jeans.

 “Mmhmm,” Sara sounds in agreement, nodding her head. “You should probably also get a few bags of ice. I’m sure your brother will bring beer.”

 “Ice. Got it,” Michael replies, reaching to grab a tattered black baseball cap off the top of the dresser. He adjusts it on his head. “Anything else?”

 “A new hat?” Sara teases, reaching out and pulling a loose thread off the bill of Michael’s cap, “this one has seen better days.”

 “This one works just fine,” Michael laughs, taking Sara’s hand and pulling it away from his face, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He leans in and gives her a quick kiss, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

 “Be safe,” Sara reminds him before releasing his hand.

 Michael nods and picks up his car keys from where they rested under his hat. “I will. Love you.”

 “Love you, too.”

 Sara stays in their bedroom until she hears the sound of the front door opening and closing and then she sighs, running her fingers through her long hair. Frowning, she looks back down at her stomach, again pulling her shirt tight against her, and still, she swears she sees no difference. Every morning she and Michael have the same conversation, where he swears he sees a difference in her shape and she swears she doesn’t. She knows it’s only a matter of days, probably, before the daily debates come to an end, when she too will see the changes Michael swears he already sees, but for the time being she almost enjoys that part of their morning routine.

 While Michael shops, though, she figures she should try and at least straighten up what little they had before their company showed up, so she moves out into the living room. She looks around at their sparse furniture and finds herself wondering where guests are going to sit when they show up later. The one benefit of starting with almost nothing, Sara had joked when they chose this house weeks ago, was that moving in was going to be a breeze, and it had been. Once everything had come to an end, they were all at a loss for where to go. And so, in the absence of any better options, Michael had suggested they rent a house there in Florida, at least until the baby was born. Settling down, at least temporarily, he had argued, would give them all some much needed stability and clarity. Once they had some footing, they could make a better long term decision.

 And so, settle down they did. Lincoln rented a small apartment near the beach, and Michael and Sara, wanting more room, had opted to rent a small house a few miles down the way from him. It wasn’t anything special, but from their first night there, it had felt like home, and Sara loved it. For the first time in as long as she could remember she felt safe. She was no longer afraid to fall asleep at night, no longer worried about what horrors the next day would hold for them.

 To keep busy, and get her mind off the seating situation, a problem she figures Michael is better suited to solve than her anyway, she figures she’ll get a jump on the afternoon’s activities by cleaning the grill. Unlocking the back door, she steps barefoot out into the backyard and removes the steel grate from the grill, before returning into the house with it, placing it in the sink and turning on the water. The grill had been a big selling feature for this particular house, Sara recalls, remembering how excited Lincoln had been when Michael mentioned it to him, already planning countless cookouts and parties before they had even signed the lease. It had actually been Lincoln that had approached them with the idea for today’s event. Knowing Michael’s birthday was fast approaching he had suggested they celebrate using that fancy new grill and Michael had obstinately objected, not wanting any fanfare surrounding his birthday. But Lincoln had pressed and pressed, and finally Michael gave in, but only on the condition that it wasn’t just for _him_ , that it should be a housewarming party as well. Lincoln had agreed, and they had invited a few neighbors to join them for a small get together.

 Sara finishes cleaning off the grill and returns it outside, before getting to work on a few other small tasks. Sometimes it feels foreign to her, how _normal_ her life is now, but she doesn’t take a single second for granted anymore, not when every second instead could be filled  spent unsure if you’d live to see the next. Sometimes she still half expects to wake up and find herself back inside a dusty boat in a warehouse in Los Angeles, or worse.

 She’s just finished wiping down the kitchen counters and is about to get in the shower when she hears the front door unlock and creak open.

 “Sara?” Michael calls out, the door slamming shut behind him.

 “In the kitchen,” she replies, and a few seconds later, Michael rounds the corner, loaded down with white plastic bags.

 “Michael,” Sara laughs at the sight of him, grocery bags hanging off both of his arms and dangling precariously from each of his fingers. “I could have helped you,” she says, taking bags out of his hands and placing them on the counter.

 “I got this,” he says, hoisting an arm up and placing the heavy bags down on the counter next to the ones Sara had already taken from him. He wiggles his arm loose of the bags. “The ice is sitting inside the door, if you want to get that.”

 Shaking her head, Sara goes to retrieve the ice, and by the time she gets back, Michael’s already hard at work, kitchen cabinets and refrigerator open, unloading all of the items into their proper places. Sara slides the bag of ice into the freezer and then starts helping Michael put everything away. Working like a well oiled machine, they move around each other, contently putting away all of Michael’s purchases. They’re just about finished when a smaller green shopping bag, hidden under the avalanche of grocery bags, catches her eye.

 “What’s this?” Sara asks, picking up the bag and holding it up. Michael, down on his knees, deep in the middle of rearranging items in the refrigerator, turns around to look. His eyes widen as he looks up at the bag in her hands.

 “I... uh…,” the tips of his ears start to flush red as he stumbles over his words. “I stopped at a bookstore.”

 “A bookstore?” Sara questions, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She reaches into the bag and pulls out two books, not taking her eyes off Michael. “Am I really that bad at conversation? You need books to escape already?” She teases, before looking down at the titles in her hand. _100,000+ Baby Names_ and _New Baby Book_.

 “I wasn’t kidding about getting baby books,” Michael says, rising to his feet. He shuts the refrigerator door behind him. “They had so many, I didn’t know what to get. We’ll have to get more. I figured that’d be a good place to start, though.”

 Sara smiles down at the books and then up at Michael, nodding her head, as she starts to feel tears well up in her eyes. “These are good,” she manages to swallow the lump in her throat to get the words out.

 This was something she was still trying to get used to, her hormones wildly out of control, causing her to cry when she least expected. But the thought of Michael standing alone in a bookstore, trying to decide what baby books to bring home for them to read was almost too much for her heart to handle. And then, suddenly, a thought comes to her.

 “Here,” she says, handing the books off to Michael. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

 “Sara?” He calls out to her, his voice laced with concern. She knows he’s probably worried he’s upset her, but to his credit, he doesn’t follow her. She disappears back into their bedroom, opening one of her dresser drawers and retrieving a small blue gift bag. They had also bickered about this, Michael insisting he didn’t need a gift when she asked what he would like, Sara insisting that she was going to get him one anyway. He stubbornly never gave her any suggestions, but still, she found something.

 She returns to the kitchen where Michael still stands rooted in his spot, both books still in his hands, the confusion and worry written on his face melting away to frustration when he sees the gift bag in Sara’s hand.

 “Sara, I told you not to get me anything,” Michael says, exasperated, setting the books down and putting his hands on his hips.

 “And I told you I wanted to get you something,” she insists, holding the bag out to him. “Take it.”

 When he doesn’t move, Sara rolls her eyes and shakes the bag at him. “Michael, it’s not much. And it’s something you need, anyway.”

 Sighing heavily, Michael reaches out and takes the bag from her. He sets it down on on top of the books and Sara can’t help but smile as he starts pulling the tissue paper out of the bag.

 “I’m going to remember this when you tell me you don’t want anything for your birthday, too, you know,” Michael says, wadding up the tissue paper and tossing it on the counter.

 “That’s fine,” Sara replies, barely paying attention to his words as she anticipates Michael reaching his gift.

 “What’s…” Michael says, puzzled, as he reaches into the bag and pulls out his gift. In his hands is a bright blue cap folded in on itself, the bright red C of the Cubs logo facing up at him.

 “A new hat?” He laughs a little, smiling up at Sara and she nods, smiling back at him.

 “Yeah, that black one needs to go, Michael.”

 Michael runs his fingers over the brim of his new hat, “well, thank you, I love it.”

 “Turn it over,” Sara says suddenly, her eyes glittering mischievously.

 “What?” Michael asks, surprised by her sudden statement.

 “Turn it over,” Sara says again. “Look inside,” she clarifies.

 Screwing his face up in confusion, Michael flips the hat over in his hands and opens it, pulling the back away from the front, looking inside, laughing again at what he sees.

Folded up inside his hat is an identical one, but impossibly small, sized to fit an infant. He pulls it out and holds it up, looking at it with bewilderment, like he can’t imagine anyone could ever be small enough to wear it.

“I figured you could match,” Sara says, smiling wider as she watches Michael, enamored with the tiny cap, turn it over in his hands. When he doesn’t say anything or take his eyes off the hat, Sara steps up next to him and puts her hand on his back. “You like it?” She asks, as she starts rubbing slow circles over his shirt.

“I love it,” he says earnestly, smiling over at Sara, before he leans in and kisses her. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”


End file.
